Runaway Widow

Dilly Court

• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Year: 2022
• Topic: Literature
• eBook ISBN:
  9780008435585
• Subtopic: Historical Fiction
• Index: Literature

Don't miss the third book in the heartwarming six-part series from the No.1 Sunday Times bestselling author Dilly Court!

After the sudden death of her husband, Patricia Greystone is left with nothing, and at twenty-four, she finds herself a penniless widow. As the youngest child of a large family, she has always been headstrong and proud – so she's determined not to return to her family cap in hand. Instead she strikes out on her own.

The dark streets of London are the perfect place to hide from the world, and Patricia makes her living singing on the streets. But the city is a dangerous place.

Without her family around her, will Patricia lose her way?

Book Three of The Rockwood Chronicles

Chapter One

Duke Street, London. Winter, early 1859

Patricia Greystone stood by one of the tall windows in her elegant London home, gazing out into the nothingness that was a London particular. The thick, greenish-yellow peasouper had blanketed the city from early afternoon with no sign of clearing. The only glimmer of light came from the streetlamp directly in front of the house, but even that was diffused to nothing but a soft glow. Outside there was silence as if the world had come to a sudden end, and the smell of sulphur and soot seeped into the room. A soft rap on the drawing-room door made Patricia turn away from her vigil.

‘Enter.’

The door opened to admit the Greystones’ long-serving butler, Foster. In his hands was a silver salver on which lay a folded and sealed document. ‘A boy brought this for you, my lady.’

Patricia crossed the floor to snatch up the sheet of paper. She recognised her husband’s seal and her fingers shook with impatience as she unfolded the brief note written on paper with a House of Commons heading. ‘Thank you, Foster, there’s no reply. The House is sitting late and Sir Michael will not be home for dinner.’

‘Very well, my lady. Will you be dining at home?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. That will be all, Foster.’

Patricia sighed and turned away. Yet another evening ruined, although this time it was the fog that made it impossible for her to attend the dinner party at the home of Lord and Lady Stanton, whose lavish entertainments were legendary. Greystone was probably debating something utterly thrilling like the proposed sewage works east of the city, which had become a vital necessity after the Great Stink the previous summer. In July and August the Houses of Parliament had been evacuated because of the pervading smell from human and manufacturing effluent. However, her husband’s late night sittings were coming a little too often these days, curtailing their social life to an ever increasing extent. Had it not been for the fog Patricia would have attended the Stantons’ soirée on her own, but it was doubtful if anyone would venture out in these adverse conditions.

She went to sit by the fire, watching the glow fairies sparkle and then die away on the sooty fire back, and the orange, red and blue flames licking around the lumps of jet-black coal. Suddenly and unexpectedly she was thinking of her childhood home. Rockwood Castle in Devonshire had not been the most comfortable place to grow up, with its draughty corridors and dampness seeping through the stone walls. There was a time when she and her siblings had been forced to live off the land, but at home there had always been love, laughter and companionship, spiced by squabbles and differences of opinion. She smiled as she recalled her rebellious youth. She must have tried her elder sister’s patience to the limit, but Rosalind had always been there to support her when she needed her most. Their relationship had been strained by their mutual involvement with Alexander Blanchard, whom Rosalind had once spurned and Patricia had almost married. Rosalind had eventually married Alexander after a stormy marriage to his cousin Piers, which ended in divorce. But sisterly love had triumphed and now Rosalind and Alexander were proud parents, devoted to each other and their growing family.

A glowing ember bounced onto the hearth but Patricia chose to ignore it. She had a small army of servants to do menial tasks, leaving her with nothing to do other than to change her clothes three times a day with the help of her personal maid. There were always invitations to accept and others to send out, for Patricia’s life nowadays was one of socialising, entertaining and being entertained. With a husband many years her senior she was used to being treated as delightful and decorative by his contemporaries, who either patronised her or flirted outrageously, which did not amuse their matronly wives. Patricia had learned as a bride of twenty to parry the gentlemen’s advances with a fluttering of her long eyelashes or a sweet smile, whilst inwardly writing them off as pathetic old men.

She stretched her feet towards the comforting blaze, smoothing the satin skirts of her emerald-green dinner gown. She knew this colour suited her and it was Greystone’s favourite. The décolleté neckline flattered her youthful figure and brought a sparkle to her husband’s eyes. She loved Greystone, but she was not in love with him and never had been. She had married with her eyes open and her sights set on wealth and position, but she had kept her side of the bargain, and her husband had nothing with which to reproach her.

They had agreed from the start that there would be no children from their union. Greystone had two grown-up daughters. Christina was now married to the local squire’s son in Rockwood village, and Sylvia, as yet unwed, lived in the family home, Greystone Park, chaperoned by her formidable cousin, Martha Collins, and her timid companion, Miss Moon. Patricia was fond of her stepdaughters, although they had found it difficult to accept their father’s decision to marry someone less than half his age, but they had gradually come round. Perhaps, she thought dreamily, she ought to bring Sylvia to London at the start of the Season. Sylvia, at the age of twenty-three, was too old to be a débutante, but there might be some eligible bachelors who would find her naïve charms attractive. Miss Collins and Miss Moon would not be included in the invitation. Patricia had had enough of domineering women, her mother and Hester, their former housekeeper included.

Patricia jumped at the sound of someone knocking on the door. ‘Enter.’

Foster appeared in the doorway with his usual impassive expression. ‘Begging your pardon, my lady, but there is a gentleman at the door who wishes to see you.’ He approached Patricia’s chair, once again proffering the silver salver on which sat a deckle-edged visiting card. ‘Shall I tell him that you are unavailable?’

‘Who on earth would have braved the fog to visit at this time in the evening?’ Patricia studied the copperplate writing with a sigh. ‘Tell Lord Eldon that I am otherwise engaged.’

The words had barely left her lips when a tall, handsome man with dark auburn hair and a wicked twinkle in his grey eyes strode past Foster. He came to a halt and with an exaggerated gesture he swept off his top hat and bowed.

‘Forgive the intrusion, Lady Greystone.’

Patricia made a determined effort to look casual as she rose to her feet, but she was always pleased to see Larkin Eldon, despite the fact that he was a notorious flirt with questionable morals. She was fully aware that he had a tendency to gamble recklessly, his actions cushioned by the huge fortune he had inherited from his late father. It was said that he could drink the hardest toper under the table and still present as being reasonably sober, but despite his raffish reputation he was immensely popular with both men and women. He could charm the sternest matron, should the necessity arise, and one look from him would set the débutantes’ hearts aflutter. Patricia was not so naïve, but there was something irresistible about Eldon and she genuinely enjoyed his company.

‘My husband has not returned from the House, Eldon,’ she said primly. ‘The sitting has gone on longer than expected.’

‘So I believe, my lady.’ Eldon handed his top hat, gloves and greatcoat to Foster. ‘I trust you won’t send me out into the peasouper without allowing me to recover from the exertion of walking here this evening. I had to feel my way along the railings outside the houses to reach your home. The fog is so thick I almost had to crawl on my hands and knees.’

Patricia knew she had lost the first round in the battle of wills, and if she were to be honest with herself she was delighted to see Eldon. She was fully aware that his ardent pursuit of her company was a reaction to her refusal to be one of his many conquests, but Eldon could make her laugh and he was an excellent guest at a dinner party or a soirée. He excelled as a dancing partner and he had introduced her to the excitement of card games such as faro and baccarat, and the thrill of picking the winning numbers in roulette. He had made flirtation an art.

Foster cleared his throat. ‘My lady?’

‘It’s all right, Foster. Lord Eldon is welcome to stay until he feels he can brave the weather again.’

‘Will his lordship be dining tonight, my lady?’

Patricia met Eldon’s amused look with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t think so, Foster.’

Foster bowed and left the room, straight-faced as ever but somehow managing to express his disapproval.

‘Aren’t you going to offer me a brandy? I did come all this way just to see you, Patricia.’

‘Eldon, you never do anything unless it is for your own amusement or pleasure. If you want a glass of brandy you know where to find the decanter and a glass.’

He laughed. ‘You know me so well, my dear.’ He strolled over to a side table to select a decanter and he poured a tot into each of the two glasses. ‘You will join me, won’t you?’ He handed one to her with a persuasive smile. ‘Come now, don’t frown at me, Patricia. You’ll crease that lovely alabaster brow.’

‘I might have preferred sherry. You should have given me the option, Eldon.’ Patricia accepted the drink anyway.

He took a seat opposite her and raised his glass. ‘I know you better than that, Patricia. You say all the correct things, but you enjoy a tot as much as I do, although admittedly not in quite the same quantity.’

‘I should hope not.’ She sipped the brandy and the warming effect of the alcohol made her relax a little. She sat back in her chair. ‘Why are you here, Eldon? You must have known that the Stantons’ dinner party would have been cancelled because of the fog.’

‘Of course I did, and I also knew that your husband would be delayed at the House. Surely the fact that I braved the terrors of the London particular to come here this evening must convince you of my utter devotion to your beautiful self?’

Patricia eyed him over the rim of her glass. ‘I think you were bored, Eldon. You simply wanted to create mischief by coming here and compromising my good name.’

‘You do yourself an injustice, Patricia. I came here because I care about you. Besides which, you are the one woman in London with whom I can be myself. You speak your mind and you are good company, added to the fact that you are extremely beautiful and utterly desirable.’

‘And you are a rogue and an arch flatterer, but I must admit I was a trifle bored.’

‘I knew it and I’ve come to rescue you from a long and extremely dull evening. If I had my way we would always be together.’

Patricia downed the last of the brandy. ‘Are you telling me you wish to marry me, Eldon?’

He placed his empty glass on a drum table at the side of his chair. ‘If you weren’t already married to Greystone that is exactly what I would wish.’

Patricia met his earnest gaze and began to giggle. ‘You are such a liar, Eldon. If I was unmarried we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

‘Do you doubt my feelings for you, my angel?’

‘Quite frankly, yes, I do. How old are you, Eldon?’

His eyes widened in surprise. ‘I’m thirty-three. I’m in my prime.’

‘I think if you had wanted to marry, you would have done it many years ago. After all, you have all the assets that any matchmaking mama would consider requisite.’

‘Tell me about them, Patricia.’

‘You are quite presentable and you are extremely wealthy. You have a title and a country estate even larger than Greystone Park. Added to which, you have rooms in Albemarle Street.’

He put his head on one side. ‘All true, of course, but is that how you chose Greystone? Did you assess his assets in a similar fashion?’

‘Of course I did, Eldon. On the other hand I do love my husband. He gives me everything I want and more. We understand each other perfectly.’

‘But you remain faithful to him, even though he’s a cold fish.’

‘Don’t call him that. You know nothing about our relationship. I wouldn’t disgrace the family name by having affairs, so you will never know me better than you do now, Eldon.’

He clutched his hand to his heart. ‘You wound me, my dear. I am not a philanderer; my regard for you is genuine.’

Patricia rose to her feet and tugged at a bell pull. ‘You are a roué and lies trip off your tongue without any effort on your part, but you are the most amusing man in London and that is the only reason I tolerate you.’

He pulled a face. ‘I’m being dismissed? Or are you inviting me to dine with you?’

‘If you’re worried about finding your way home in the fog I’ll send one of the footmen to guide you with a flaming torch.’

‘No, that won’t be necessary. I admit defeat tonight, but I won’t give up, Patricia. One day I will make you mine, married or not.’

Patricia turned to Foster as he entered the room. ‘Lord Eldon is leaving, Foster.’

‘Unwillingly, I should add.’ Eldon rose to his feet. ‘But I will see you at the opera tomorrow evening.’ He took Patricia’s hand and raised it to his lips, looking her in the eyes with a gaze that left nothing to her imagination.

‘Yes, providing the fog lifts.’ She snatched her hand free. ‘Safe journey, Eldon. I’ll give my husband your regards.’

He smiled and blew her a kiss as he allowed Foster to usher him from the room. Patricia sank back onto her chair. Eldon’s suggestive glance had made her pulse race, but she was not going to allow him to win. She had made a bargain with Greystone and she intended to keep her word.

‘Shall I inform Cook that you will be dining soon, my lady?’

Foster’s voice brought her back to the present with a jolt. ‘Yes, Foster. I’ll be dining on my own.’

When dinner was announced Patricia went to the dining room and sat in state at the head of the table. She picked at her food, although it was delicious and beautifully presented. For the first time in her married life she felt lonely. Perhaps it was the feeling of being isolated by the penetrating blanket of foul-smelling fog that had unsettled her, but she went to her room as soon as she had finished eating. She rang for her maid and within minutes Betsey hurried into Patricia’s elegant be...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• The Rockwood Chronicles
• Rockwood Map
• The Rockwood Chronicles family tree
• Dedication
• Contents
• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Four
• Chapter Five
• Chapter Six
• Chapter Seven
• Chapter Eight
• Chapter Nine
• Chapter Ten
• Chapter Eleven
• Chapter Twelve
• Chapter Thirteen
• Chapter Fourteen
• Chapter Fifteen
• Chapter Sixteen
• Chapter Seventeen
• Chapter Eighteen
• Chapter Nineteen
• Chapter Twenty
• Chapter Twenty-One
• Chapter Twenty-Two
• Chapter Twenty-Three
• Chapter Twenty-Four
• Chapter Twenty-Five
• Chapter Twenty-Six
• Read on for a sneak peek of Sunday’s Child
• Keep Reading …
• About the Author
• Also by Dilly Court
• About the Publisher